


Not Quite the Moon

by Quercusrobur



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Comfort, Episode: s05e01 The Eleventh Hour, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-11-07 21:19:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17968241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quercusrobur/pseuds/Quercusrobur
Summary: “What are you doing on the moon?” the Doctor asks, perplexed. Of all the things he did not expect to find upon opening the doors… well, if he had even thought to putJackon the list he would have been near the top.





	Not Quite the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> _Because seriously he did not just go to the Moon for five minutes. The day he just had?_   
>    
>  _Rewatching the Eleventh Doctor episodes because my kid wants to see them. No complaints from me. So, random little fic for you._

“What are you doing on the moon?” the Doctor asks, perplexed. Of all the things he did not expect to find upon opening the doors… well, if he had even thought to put _Jack_ on the list he would have been near the top. But probably after the surprisingly colorful landscape and tall trees and mostly-placid lake and the large snakey something holding Jack upside down over said lake. “This doesn't look like the moon…”

“Well _spotted_ , the fuck are they teaching in school these days -” His head goes back underwater briefly.

“Well, you look like you’ve got this handled,” the Doctor says awkwardly, when he resurfaces. “I’ve got to get back, erm.” An ominous boiling erupts from the lake and Jack disappears entirely this time, along with the snakey thing. The Doctor sidles back through the doors, ready to make a run for it unobserved.

“Stop,” says Jack; the Doctor stops. He couldn’t have said why. As Jack climbs out of the lake he just watches, wondering. New face, new self; maybe Jack will be easier to bear, now. Hauling a disturbingly - fascinatingly - slimy, tangled lump of _something_ , Jack points emphatically with his free hand. “As it happens, I have, but don’t start that running away thing again. Stay.”

 _That_ is a bit much. “Nice to see you again,” the Doctor says, hand on the door, “really must get back, just needed a quick hop to run her in -”

“ _Stay_.” Without even checking the effect of his order, Jack walks right past the TARDIS, heading for the trees.

“Oh, no, that's rubbish,” the Doctor says angrily, following him. “Whatever else I am, I'm not the sort of man who takes orders. I've just told off a fleet of dangerously incompetent Atraxi, don't think I'll be slow to do the same to you. You have a bad habit of biting off more than you can chew, Captain, and if I find you're doing your usual violent interfering here -”

Turning to face him, Jack's expression is half amused smirk, half frustration. “You -” he starts, cuts himself off and shakes his head. He reaches out to the coat hanging from the tree next to him and pulls a knife from a pocket. “I needed it back.”

The Doctor steps back warily. “Needed _what_ back?” But Jack just snorts and crouches down to hack at the slimy tangled lump, extracts his wet and also unfortunately slimy vortex manipulator.

“This. You're jumpy as hell, what's wrong with you?”

“You'd be jumpy too if you'd had the day I have! It wasn't just Atraxi - Jack, I just…” His legs buckle and he sits down hard on the grass, hand over his face, as the enormity of the last days comes down on him like a load of bricks.

“Doctor? Hey, hey, it's alright.” Jack sits down next to him, hair still dripping, trousers soaking wet, and wraps an arm around his shaking shoulders; a small mercy he is shirtless this time, where the Doctor would usually complain. “When is this?”

“Just started over!” he announces brightly. “She hit me with a cricket bat, Jack, isn't that brilliant?” It does seem to be easier now, existing near him. He doesn't feel quite so harshly unnatural, for some reason. “Little Amelia Pond. I smashed her shed to bits of course, and ruined her life so it's only fair.”

Jack just squeezes him tighter. “You didn't ruin her life.”

“What do you know, you can't even wear clothes properly. Why don't you have a shirt on?” That may not be strictly fair but he very badly does not want to think about the last day.

Eyeing him dubiously, Jack says, “Makes it easier to swim.”

“Then why are you wearing trousers?”

“I could take them off if it would make you feel better?” Oddly it doesn't sound like a real suggestion; his grin is amused and tolerant, very un-Jack-like.

“No. Thanks.” Taking a deep breath, the Doctor tries to ignore how nice it feels to be held after all the pain; the cricket bat, the crash, the regeneration, the goodbyes ( _Rose, Rose, the best of him gone forever;_ he hates himself a little for being remade with whole hearts), the radiation, the Time Lords, Gallifrey itself called out of the Time War… _the Master_. He can't tell Jack, of all people, about his day. “I really need to be getting back, this was meant to be a quick hop to the Moon and then right back, I told her five minutes last time, you see, and missed by twelve years. I daren’t do it again -”

“Who knows what she would hit you with this time,” Jack finishes his thought for him like a joke he's heard before, and the Doctor frowns. Jack shrugs apologetically. “Not the first time I've seen this face,” he offers, and hops to his feet, pulling the Doctor up after. “You need sleep or you're going to embarrass yourself. You have a time machine. Come on.” Gathering his things, he heads back toward the TARDIS, towing the Doctor by the hand.

“I'm fine, a little percussive maintenance does for me as well as the old girl, got everything knocked back into place -” As if to spite him, a spasm near his left kidney doubles him over; Jack's arm is around his waist, holding him up, and he looks up into Jack's concerned eyes as a golden spark of regeneration energy escapes his lips.

“Don't lie to _me_ , Doctor,” Jack says, soft smile lighting his face. As the Doctor stares wide-eyed, Jack leans in, brushes his lower lip feather-light with his tongue, licks at the traces of gold spilled there. The Doctor exhales again and Jack's mouth meets his fully, just for a moment but the heat of his skin, of his breath, is enough to melt the Time Lord's determination to do… whatever it was.

“Jack -”

Drawing back, still smiling tenderly, Jack starts toward the TARDIS again. “Come on. Let's get you to bed.”

-+-+-+-

 


End file.
